ACT II: The Reign of Jaehaerys I — Part 1: The Court and Its Loves (59 AC – 87 AC)
Chapter 10: Seductions and Shadows in Oldtown (79 AC)
There are things in this world that inevitably change with the passing of centuries; there are others that seem frozen in time; and then there are those that remain fundamentally the same, but receive a new coat of paint to entertain the fools.
The court at the Red Keep in the year 79 AC fit squarely into that last category.
It was a permanent circus of vanities, gossip, and repressed ambitions.
The book *Fire & Blood* was the original source from which all the history of this world sprang—even if recorded through the biased lens of the maesters—while the HBO series I contemplated in my past life was nothing more than poorly written fanfiction that I barely took into consideration.
However, I must admit that Saera Targaryen’s reputation was something that neither the book nor the series managed to depict in all its rottenness.
The girl was substantially worse, more spoiled, and more manipulative than any account had dared to describe.
And, even more ironically, she was the king’s favorite daughter.
At twelve years old, Saera’s main amusement was tormenting her sister Daella, three years her senior and terribly skittish.
Not content with terrifying the hallways, the girl discovered the Red Keep’s secret passages and began stealing from the royal kitchens and wine cellars.
Stealing sweets would be a minor issue, but in that year of 79 AC, Saera started swiping bottles of the strongest wine in the castle.
And she didn’t even bother drinking in secret: she appeared openly at court balls, dinners, and audiences visibly drunk, displaying a mocking posture, without the slightest shred of remorse or guilt for anything she did.
And, obviously, being such a spoiled brat who thought she owned the world, she became fixated on me, launching ridiculous and childish attempts to seduce me.
When she grew older and reached physical maturity in future years, I might even think about it for pure carnal entertainment; but dealing with a spoiled brat like she was now was utterly impossible for my standards.
Still, the girl liked to test my patience.
She spent hours clearly hidden inside the stone walls of my chambers, watching through arcane cracks while I forcefully fucked my dear Dany upon my silk sheets.
But I didn’t care enough to stop her: if she wanted to spend her time watching a practical lesson in anatomy and sorcery, let her watch—at least that way she wasn’t wasting her time pestering others.
I’ll leave Saera’s parenting problems for Jaehaerys and Alysanne to solve.
And, apparently, when the king and queen didn’t know what to do with their own children, they ended up pushing the resolution of their fears onto me.
Under the blue sky of the Reach, I cut through the heavens mounted on the back of my fluffy winged friend.
Unlike what some fool might suppose, Jaehaerys hadn’t sent me out of fear of bandits or dangers on the Roseroad; the road was quiet and the realm was at peace.
The king feared, in truth, for the lives and well-being of his children *within* the very orders to which they were delivering themselves.
Jaehaerys knew the snake pit of the Citadel and the quiet fanaticism of the Faith of the Seven’s clergy.
Fearing that maesters or septons might dare neglect, poison, or mistreat Vaegon and Maegelle once the gates closed behind them, the king asked me to personally carry them on The Cannibal’s back and deliver a crystal-clear, unmistakable message to the leaders of Oldtown: take very good care of my children, or suffer the consequences.
Vaegon was sitting on the spare saddle right behind me, while Maegelle occupied the main saddle directly in front of me, her body completely pressed against mine.
My cock kept poking her firm ass the entire way, and I won’t lie and say that while manipulating The Cannibal’s leather reins, I didn’t “accidentally” touch certain plush parts of her body.
The young future septa insisted she felt no attraction to me—a flimsy excuse not even she believed—but I won’t lie about the fact that her resistance to temptation was remarkable.
Even with me provoking her intensely during hours of flight, she didn’t yield openly, which didn’t really matter to me.
After all, what I truly enjoy is pushing her to the limit.
The majestic city of Oldtown appeared on the horizon, and I broke the silence:
“— We’re almost there, my young ones.
If you want to back out of the monumental stupidity you’re about to commit, there’s still time.”
Vaegon raised his voice to speak over the wind:
“— For the thousandth time, Lord Vaelarys…
no.
My mind is made up.”
“— A pity…” I commented, shaking my head.
“— Dedicated your life to those idiots.”
“— The Citadel is the guardian of all knowledge!” the lad shot back.
“— Yes, and they leave all that knowledge locked up in chains without ever using it to make the world better,” I countered.
That left the boy completely silent.
Deep down, he understood that truth himself.
After all, Vaegon had been my student along with his brothers and sisters at the Red Keep, and I had taught him to think critically.
But every young idiot thinks he’ll be the one to change the world, and Vaegon had that goal of trying to improve the Citadel from within.
Well, if he manages it, it won’t be a bad thing.
Taking advantage of the silence, I slowly slid my hand down my fair companion’s belly in front until reaching her mount of Venus over her dress.
“— And you, my beautiful septa?” I asked softly.
“— Are you going to change your mind?”
Maegelle grabbed my wrist with trembling hands, pulling my hand away:
“— No…
and it’s useless to insist, Lord Arthos!
I will become a holy woman and be far away from you.”
“— In truth, the fact that you’re a septa only makes me even more aroused,” I replied near her ear.
“— Lewd dog!” she cursed, her face burning red. This story is hosted at g.com.
“— It’s not very smart to talk like that to someone while riding on top of his dragon, Maegelle,” I mocked.
She looked back startled:
“— Speak softly!
Vaegon is listening to us, he’ll say something!”
“— At this speed and with this wind, he’s not hearing a thing,” I stated.
“— I spoke to him a moment ago and you didn’t hear anything we said, did you?”
She frowned, confused:
“— And how are you talking to me right now?!”
“— Magic,” I answered directly in her mind.
“— That’s how I can enter your mind and see exactly what you imagine about me at night, alone in your bed.”
The revelation silenced her instantly.
Maegelle froze and remained in absolute silence for the rest of the journey.
I merely chuckled silently, agreeing with my own thoughts: thinking of her and timid Daella, the quiet and puritanical ones are without a doubt the worst—or, in my view, the best of all.
After making a full circle over the city to give everyone a proper fright and ensure the inhabitants would have nightmares about The Cannibal—who obviously roared loudly and spat flames into the air solely with the goal of instilling panic—I descended to the courtyard of the Hightower, the seat of House Hightower.
After unbuckling them both from the saddle straps, they climbed down the ropes.
Wearing my standard Valyrian attire in white with embroidery, I stood out completely from the lords of the Reach waiting for us.
I could clearly see the disgust and loathing stamped on their starched faces.
The courtyard was packed: the Lord of House Hightower, the Conclave of Archmaesters of the Citadel in their solemn robes, the new High Septon surrounded by high-ranking septons, and dozens of Reach nobles had gathered to receive us.
Lord Hightower stepped forward with a forced smile:
“— Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Vaegon and Princess Maegelle.
And to you as well, Lord Vaelarys.”
“— Thank you, Lord Hightower,” I replied, assuming a dominant posture and keeping my voice clear so everyone in that courtyard heard every word.
“— King Jaehaerys tasked me with bringing the prince and princess safely, and more than that, with delivering a personal message from the Iron Throne to all of you who command the Citadel and the Sept.”
The mention of a direct message brought an immediate silence over the courtyard.
The archmaesters adjusted their chains and the septons exchanged uncomfortable glances.
I turned my cold gaze directly to the new High Septon and the archmaesters gathered alongside Lord Hightower.
“— As everyone knows, King Jaehaerys loves his children deeply.
And he expects both orders to treat Prince Vaegon and Princess Maegelle with the greatest respect, zeal, and care imaginable.”
I took two slow steps forward, my boots echoing against the stones of the courtyard, and locked eyes with the new leader of the Faith amidst the crowd:
“— By the way, you must be the new High Septon, correct?”
The man swallowed hard before everyone, bowing his head:
“— Yes, Lord Vaelarys…”
“— Excellent.
Tell me one thing in front of all your brothers in faith and the maesters of the Citadel: what exactly happened to your predecessor?”
Dread stamped itself openly on the man’s face and on the expressions of the surrounding nobles.
Before the Conclave and Lord Hightower, the High Septon answered with a trembling voice:
“— On a journey…
His Holiness’s party was terribly attacked by a giant wild beast on the roads…
he unfortunately did not survive.
The few survivors only saw a massive black creature cutting through the sky.”
I smirked with pure malice and derision, staring at each of the leaders present:
“— Ah, what a terrible pity…
But the little children he was so fond of must have celebrated quite a bit when they heard the news, after all he went to meet the Seven, didn’t he?
The king asked me to remind you all that Oldtown is far too beautiful a city to be reduced to ashes by ‘wild beasts’ should any harm come to the royal prince and princess while under your watch.
Did you understand the message clearly?”
The High Septon, Lord Hightower, and even the proudest archmaesters turned severely pale.
The septon merely nodded with a trembling head:
“— Y-yes, Lord Vaelarys…
we understand.
And the faithful…
With Jaehaerys’s message delivered with appropriate terror and the kids’ safety guaranteed by the simple threat of total annihilation, the atmosphere of absolute tension gave way to diplomatic etiquette.
The Conclave of the Citadel approached to escort Vaegon, while Lord Hightower stepped forward:
“— Lord Vaelarys, a feast has been prepared in honor of the prince, the princess, and yourself.
But first, please accept bread and salt.”
I accepted the offered bread and salt.
After all, I didn’t come here to destroy everything…
yet.
Well, with the Hightower family, I probably wouldn’t have a reason for a direct massacre.
The only Hightowers who would actually cause trouble in the future were little Otto—who at the moment was only three years old and running between his mother’s legs—and his future daughter Alicent.
The others were just dragged into their madness and then went back to staying isolated in their tower.
During the feast, full of pomp and the usual Reach idiocies, I sat at the high table.
Fortunately, the food was excellent.
Around me were the Targaryen prince and princess, the High Septon, and the leaders of the Citadel’s Conclave, with whom I was conversing.
After all, I must have been a giant source of information to those old men.
One of those old men—I didn’t bother to find out his exact position in the Citadel’s hierarchy—asked me:
“— Lord Vaelarys, I couldn’t help but notice how your House’s sigil is entirely different from the Targaryens’.
Did you choose it yourself?”
“— Of course not,” I replied.
“— It has been my House’s symbol since the beginning.”
“— So it dates back to the time of Valyria?” another inquired.
“— No.
My House predates Valyria,” I declared.
“— But didn’t your House arise with Valyria?” a maester asked, surprised.
“— No.
Valyria arose because of my House.
My ancestors came from the legendary Empire of the Dawn.”
That left the old archmaesters and even the Lord of House Hightower in utter uproar.
After all, the Empire of the Dawn was something of which they had almost no records.
One of them—who I imagine was the Archmaester of Higher Mysteries, a very fitting name for someone who pretends not to care about magic—asked:
“— And was your family able to bring anything from that Empire and Valyria?”
“— In fact, yes,” I answered.
“— My father saved practically all of my House’s knowledge before the tragedy.
He transferred everything to secret vaults long before the Doom of Valyria, and later relocated every single scroll, tome, and artifact to our Black Stone Tower in the North.
That is why we still possess this magic.
My father wove intricate blood warding magic around it, which I later reinforced and perfected myself—making it far healthier and less lethal to attempt seeking knowledge there than venturing into the smoking ruins of Valyria to find something similar, though I assure you, those wards remain thoroughly fatal to uninvited intruders.”
“— Everyone says your House was one of the three most powerful in all of Valyria,” an archmaester commented.
“— That is true,” I confirmed.
“— My father was the heir and, hearing the warning of Daenys the Dreamer, he secured our heritage well in advance.
Unfortunately, only he made it out in time.”
One of the old men was frantically jotting down every word that left my mouth, with an excited look as if he were seeing the Maiden of the Seven herself naked in front of him—which, to me, would be something considerably exciting.
“— Well,” I continued, “— my family suffered from Valyria’s disease: pride.
They listened to Daenys and took her dream seriously, after all dragon dreams have always been a Targaryen ability, and that’s why they were accepted among the dragonlords.
But the Vaelaryses were too proud of their magic and thought they could contain the Doom.
Besides, they couldn’t leave, as they were the fire mages who tended the Fourteen Flames…
and well, what happened to them you already know.”
One of the men asked:
“— Do you have an estimate of how many dragons your House possessed in that era?”
“— We had enough dragons to give one to every noble house in Westeros and still be able to fight all of them together with a numerical superiority that would make the Rhoynar War look like child’s play,” I stated with a cold smile.
After silencing the maesters of the Citadel with that declaration, I retired from the hall.
Shortly after I reached my room, two beautiful ladies knocked on the door—as far as I remember, one from House Tyrell and another from House Hightower itself.
Well, at least I would have excellent company to entertain myself during the nights in that city.
After the two young Targaryens officially joined their orders, my service in Oldtown was complete.
I couldn’t stand those maesters looking at me like I was a giant living encyclopedia anymore.
I climbed onto The Cannibal and departed back home.